Last note
by Mad.Man.Alice
Summary: Ivan writes a note he doesn't expect a reply to.
1. Chapter 1

I hate myself, make no mistake about that.

I'm not looking for pity, or maybe I am.

I just want to put this out to the world, whether or not anyone bothers to listen.

Nobody ever bothers to listen.

But I'll leave it here anyway, where anyone can see it. I guess it's my cowardly way of saying goodbye, because I know they'll find it eventually, once they look through my computer. They'll do that because they'll be looking for answers, and dead bodies don't give answers. My internet history will say more than what I ever could.

Let me put this out there. I know I won't suffer the consequences before I'm gone. Hello, fanfiction-dot-net, my name is Ivan Karelin. You probably don't know me by that name. You might know me by my pen name. I know for sure that you know me by my hero name.

I'm Origami Cyclone.

I'm guessing you realize by now that I'm not writing another fanfic. This is a letter I'm just letting off into nowhere, because nobody would listen if I actually said it to their face. People only listen or pay attention when you're gone, like how it is with celebrities or side characters in anime. Nobody appreciates or pays any attention to them until they're dead, then suddenly they've always been their biggest fan.

I'm not here to tell you about that, though. I'm here to tell you about myself for once. I should use discretion, I should think about my sponsors, but I don't care right now. I really don't. I've lived quiet, I don't wanna go down the same way.

Do you know a man named Keith Goodman? I doubt you do. I think you know Sky High instead. Keith Goodman is Sky High.

Sorry Keith.

I'm an unhealthy person because I idolize people without knowing them well. From the second that I saw Keith in person, doing his work as Sky High, I started to idolize him. I wanted to be just like him. But not just that. I wanted to be with him, I wanted him and all of his glory to want my company. And he is so close, you have no idea. I see him every day. I could have been her, really, but I'm not. And why?

She didn't do anything either. She didn't talk to him first. She didn't try to see him. She didn't try to be friends with him. He went to her first. Why, why why why why why? What makes her worth so much more to him? Is it because their meeting was different? Was there a bond from just that?

I'm crying. I thought you should know that. I hate crying. It feels so crappy and I feel even wimpier.

He fell in love with her, I think. I don't understand why. I don't even want to try understanding it. But he did. It hurts just to think of it.

People told me how nice he was, how great it was to talk to him, they even told me their plans to spend time with him. I just wanted a piece of that. Just a little would be enough. Anything would have been better than what I had. I had nothing, because I was afraid. I'm still afraid. I know they're going to show him this once they find it.

I just wanted a bit of something, anything, you know? There's nothing I have here. Not a single relationship has worked out for me. Instead of having friends, I have people who hate me. Take my friend Edward for example. He meant everything to me. Now he's in jail, now he'll never be a hero, and it's my fault so he hates me. I ruin everything I touch. All of the people who hate me undoubtedly agree. The people who know me and the people who watch Hero TV.

I'm always the lowest, always, and I always will be.

Could it have killed any one of you to just talk to me for once? Could it have been so hard just to say hi, or not give me a look like you don't want me to be there? I just needed something to cling to, because that's who I am. I'm dependent.

I wish at least that people would treat me better. I'm demanded the same things as everyone else, and I'm still missing what other people have. I just want it to be equal. The one truly selfish thing I asked for was Keith, you know? I wished every night that I'd find a way to him. Just to talk, just to be friends. That's all I needed. But now, he's with her. And every time I see him, it hurts as badly as it did when I saw Edward's mugshot for the first time. I don't want seeing him to hurt that badly.

A few days ago, Wild Tiger sent me a picture of the two of them together. It was friendly between them. There was no reason for me to be jealous or sad. But I was. It was something I know I'll never have. It made me feel emptier.

Just make it stop. I just want this to stop. It's not like I want to die. I just don't want to be here anymore. When I'm leaving like this I know I shouldn't be holding back from saying everything I want to say, but when you've lived your whole life not talking, it's hard to let it all out. Even to an empty room or some other place nobody will see or hear your thoughts. It's hard to show your ugly side. Everybody has one. Nobody wants to show it. You might think that you're purposely letting the world see your ugly side, but you're not. Your ugly side is the part that you're hiding from the rest of the world. It could be the best part of you, and it would still be your 'ugly side'. Your ugly side is whatever you're hiding.

This is my ugly side. I show people the side that's excited and enthusiastic. I never show this side. I never want to show this side. This is the part of my that's afraid. The part that's afraid that every time I open my mouth, every time I show up, I'm seen as creepy or stalkerish. You think that way of me now. Don't deny it, I know it from what I've written. I'm creepy and stalkerish, I know it and it's a part of me. It's the ugly side, because my ugly side isn't just my fears, it's also what makes the fears in the first place. I'm not afraid of being creepy and stalkerish. I'm afraid of people seeing it. That's all.

Maybe I should have said more. Maybe I should have said less. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all. But this was just something I threw out to say. This wasn't meant to be deep, or meaningful. I'm leaving, and I'm not going to use this last shout to the world to try to connect it all or find meaning, or explain it. The 'good' part of goodbye is the part that hopes to see you again. You'll never see me again. There's no 'good' in this, so there's no need for the 'pretty'. It's a farewell. Once I'm gone maybe I'll be like a celebrity or side character. People will talk about how they wished they knew me better, or how they were always rooting for me, or how they'll miss me. Maybe Edward will forgive me, maybe Keith will put flowers on my grave and I'll finally get the bit of time I always wanted. I don't have my hopes up.

Goodbye

Or rather, bye.

Ivan Karelin


	2. Chapter 2

If you've seen the reports in the news, you know I'm not dead.

I'm in the hospital. I've been in the hospital for a month.

Nobody talks to me, nothing has changed. Maybe because they know the circumstances for why I'm here. The other heroes would probably be here every day if I was injured on the job, but they know that I'm not here because I was being 'brave' again.

The sponsors called me a coward before they terminated their contracts.

They haven't found this yet. Because I'm alive, they didn't bother to find how it got to this point. For now, this story or note or whatever you want to call it is safe. What kind of people are here, anyway? Nobody reported this. It's against the rules, isn't it? To write a note about yourself. Instead of reporting it to the admins or calling the police, these people favorited the story. What's worse are the people who put it on story alert.

It's better that you know what happened from me. I don't think the news has ever said something about me that was completely true.

They kicked down the front door to get in. I was curled up on my futon and they yanked my blanket off of me. They hadn't said a single word the whole time. I guess they didn't need to. The silence ended when they saw how soaked and red the mattress was. Agnes was slapping me and telling me to get up. She had this ugly, scrunched-up expression, like she was trying to dry-swallow a pill. Cain was wrapping my arms with something, I can't remember what, and trying to hold them up. His hands were warm. I could see them gripping mine tightly. I saw people circling over me. I heard one of them sobbing. I must have sounded like I was sobbing too. I was gasping for air and the room was blurring and I could feel the vein on my neck twitching with a fluttery pulse. I blamed them. I was fine until they came in. When I was curled up, I felt myself drifting off. It makes no sense that they came in like that. They never came in like that before.

I didn't really understand what had happened until a few days after I woke up in the hospital. I knew immediately that they had stopped me. The fact that I was alive was proof. I didn't want to think about any details besides that at first. The point was that they _saw_, and now they know. It's humiliating. It's degrading. I didn't have any privacy even at that time. I'm surprised they didn't bring a camera to film it. Then all of Sternbild would be able to see the ugliness that they saw.

I guess Sternbild will see it anyway.

Because even when they pull out the stitches, the scars will be visible from across the room.

I threw up when the doctor told me that. It's visible now. I guess that means I don't have an ugly side anymore.

Those few days passed. I was angry every waking hour, hating the entire HeroTV crew for finding me. And then that anger turned into confusion, because it wasn't until the third day or so that I began to question things. Why didn't they bother knocking? Why did they look like they knew what to expect? How did they get the timing so damn perfect?

And then it came to me and I almost smashed my laptop.

It was here, wasn't it? Someone called the HeroTV crew. Someone wanted to be the good Samaritan. Whoever you are, whatever you were thinking, I hate you. I really hate you. It wasn't ever meant to be a cry for help, but you made it into one. If it weren't for you, I'd be in the ground right now. Instead I'm in hell.

They don't treat me like a normal patient. Did you know that they put 'NEXT' on all of your forms from the moment they find out? And I'm not only a NEXT, I'm on suicide watch. Society isn't my friend. It's like everyone is purposely ignoring me and avoiding looking at me. If a NEXT saves lives and advertises products and becomes a role model, everybody loves us. But the second one does something wrong, we're all mentally unstable mutated freaks.

I feel like I'm going to be sick.

They haven't asked why I did it, though I know they wonder. They've searched my body for burns or other cuts, but they won't find any. It almost makes me happy that they won't find evidence, since they're treating this like attempted murder. It's like they're doing their best to make me pay for doing this. I forgot that I sold myself; I belong to HeroTV now. By trying to kill myself, I was stealing.

When they put me back on duty, I'm going to be 'brave' again and hope the criminal actually kills me that time.


End file.
